The Night of the Storm







A slight breeze blew,
Rippling the surface of the deep blue vastness
A faint stirring within grew
As a thousand raindrops beat a tattoo restless










Slowly, surely windy now
No faint stirring, but churnings abound
Relentlessly beating about the brow
A shower of hails hail the stormy storm










Crests of waves, formed white and high
Foaming, seething, wildly seeking
The ocean breaking in moans and sighs
The musky gale now faster, shrieking












The eye of the storm appears
In its inky blackness is salvation true
Not yet exhausted, but the pinnacle nears
Taut is every nerve and sinew














And at its peak, silence is all
Pure bliss achieved, euphoria floods
The last crescent waves gently fall
And the sun rises... red as blood.






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